Summer Guide
How exactly does Mr. Smith get to Washington these days—or even to the chambers of the Metro Council? “That’s the beautiful thing about American politics,” Bill Fletcher says. “It finds its own level.” Fletcher, the veteran Nashville strategist known as a Barry Bonds of political hardball—his name comes up when you Google the phrase “Prince of Darkness”—has advised some 400 races in 39 states. Over the years, he says, many close friends outside politics have come to him for advice about entering the fray.
photo by Eric England
“The first thing I try to do is convince them not to do it,” Fletcher says, chuckling. “Your time isn’t your own. I really, and deeply, admire anyone who enters the public arena.” But in the event of a true believer—a first-timer who claims to have the fortitude to surrender his privacy and press the flesh for the cause of public service—Fletcher offers five steps that any serious candidate should pursue before tossing his hat in the ring:
1. Make a list of 100 people who can’t tell you no. “These are vendors, business partners, people who owe you favors.” Fletcher says. “Your mom. I mean, anyone.” Then call each one and ask for money, if for no other reason than to prove you can.
2. Purchase a voter file from the Metro Courthouse, then start knocking on doors. For a Metro Council race, Fletcher says, there are three basic ways for an unknown to make an impact: direct mail, phones (either by automated “robocalls” or a volunteer phone bank)—and old-fashioned door-to-door face time.
3. Write down the issues on which you absolutely will not compromise. Then boil your campaign down to a single sentence short enough that you could tell it to someone on an elevator between floors. Forget the rookie mistake of berating supporters with a long-winded manifesto. “We call it ‘message discipline,’ ” Fletcher says. “If you can’t deliver a rationale for your campaign in one sentence, you’re not going to get anyone to listen.”
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4. Talk to people who have run before about what to expect. “Try to ignore any cynicism,” Fletcher adds, “and take away the knowledge you can use.” For example: many first-time candidates spend all their money in the early days of a race. Not so fast there, Adlai. Fletcher says that undecided voters choose a candidate in three waves, all of them late in the race: three weeks out, three days out, and election day. So pack the bulk of your communications into the last four weeks. “You want to hold your bullets until the end,” Fletcher says—a metaphor guaranteed to make lily-livered dilettantes quiver.
5. Prepare to work hard and to accept victory or defeat. A sense of humor is crucial, Fletcher says. So is a sense of proportion. Don’t feel that you have to take a stance on the Iraq War if you’re running for registrar of deeds in Smyrna. By the same token, don’t be one of those wishy-washy vote panhandlers who squirms over any potentially unpopular position. Voters can smell the fear.
“That’s a huge rookie mistake,” Fletcher says. “You’re not trying to get 100 percent; you’re trying to get 50 percent plus one.” In his experience, he says, voters are turned off faster by Joe I’m-for-Everything than by someone with the courage of his or her convictions. “They will hear you out,” he says. “They may not vote for you, but they will listen.”
What to do with this knowledge, now that you’ve been handed a lamp and a sword? Brand yourself, so voters recognize your message and mailings. Learn how to communicate effectively. “A good story is more powerful than a lot of rhetoric,” Fletcher says. Don’t get flustered if, say, your opponent brings up your tax record or all the times you haven’t voted—controversies that are far more common than sex scandals in local politics. In the event of a scandal, keep your cool, as Fletcher notes that most PR disasters—the hastily shredded document, the ill-advised attempt at ass-covering—occur out of panic within the first 12 hours.
After reading all this, why spend a summer shaking hands and kissing babies? The joy, Bill Fletcher says without a trace of irony, is in the journey. “It makes people understand themselves and their community better,” Fletcher says. So let the begonias wilt, stiffen your spine, and start taking those first baby steps toward Capitol Hill. And for all our sakes, think good and hard about Step 3.